


The Man Who Sold The World

by ladyofbrileith



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofbrileith/pseuds/ladyofbrileith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where over 99% of the population has died, decimated by the release of the Shanti virus, Adam has worked hard to build an outpost of civilization for survivors in a paradise, a new Garden of Eden, where humanity can be shaped into the image of his choosing. But while most of the survivors have resigned themselves to this new world and struggle to find their own place and build lives within it, Peter refuses to do so. Despite the feelings he and Adam share, Peter won't rest until he manages to undo what was done, no matter the cost, and Adam must find a way to stop him before it's too late, and his perfect apocalypse is destroyed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_June 2009_  
  
Sand bleached nearly white by the sun stretched out below him, reaching from the bright green foliage to the azure blue of the sea. It was a picture of paradise meant for a postcard in a world that still had a postal system, and a symbol of hope, a reminder of the beauty of what was left in a world ravaged by disease and the collapse of a known society destined to fade into the vestiges of memory.  
  
Adam barely noted it, gaze sliding underneath the still water that was so clear it let him see the darker shapes of underwater vegetation and sea life moving in the currents. Even that, though, he failed to truly take in, the colors and shades blending into a barely perceptible blur. Another day, another time, he might have stood here and soaked in the sun laced with his triumph, feeling both warming him deep inside the places that had frozen in a cold cell for too many years. Today, however, his mind rested on the words staining the paper he held crumpled loosely in his hand, pressed between palm and the railing of the balcony he leaned against.  
  
His peripheral vision caught the movement to his side as the man who'd brought him the report shifted. He made no sound, too good at his job, at blending in, to otherwise draw attention to himself, but Adam could almost feel the tension rolling off of him even without the benefit of any empathic sense. Bringing bad news was never a pleasant job, though Adam had done his best to keep the vagaries of his temper from those on whose loyalty he depended. Some things seeped through.  
  
"I wondered at the shift," he finally said. "Wondered who had gotten to him, gotten him to doubt when he'd stood so sure. It didn't occur to me he'd go that far."  
  
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to get to him in time, sir," Melvin Crum murmured.  
  
Adam spared him a dispassionate glance, assessing. There was a look of his father about him, the young man who'd come to name himself Ernie because he remembered nothing else of himself. Adam hadn't ever learned who he really was--his gift was enough to make the immortal wary. The boy, though...the boy was grateful to be saved, grateful to be chosen, angry enough at the world to be used, and, for once, Adam had found a use for a time traveler.  
  
"It's all right," Adam said. "No harm done. I talked him down."  
  
"How did you do it, sir, if you don't mind my asking?"  
  
Adam's lips curved in a small, wry smile. "I let him read my mind."  
  
"But...."  
  
"When you get to be my age, Melvin, you learn a few things about dealing with telepaths. Even 'stray' thoughts can be controlled and altered, or even manufactured, if you've enough control over yourself. And Peter was neither strong enough, nor cruel enough, to dig deeper than he felt he had to." _This time_ , he thought to himself. Realizing he'd failed, armed with the knowledge that Adam could lie with his thoughts, even, there was no telling how far Peter would go next time. If he was willing to risk directly contacting his past self, risk the fall out from that, he was getting desperate.  
  
Adam sighed, looking back out over the water. It was time to take matters into his own hands, here, before the boy did something that ruined everything.  
  
* * *  
  
Angela found Adam still out there as the sun sank beneath the horizon stretching out from Waikiki beach. A small frown settled on her features as she leaned against the sliding glass door and just watched his silhouette against the dying light for a few moments. When the sun was gone, she moved onto the lanai, fingers curling more tightly around the heavy glasses in her hands which were already growing slick with condensation from the ice inside and the heat out.  
  
"I brought you a drink," she said, leaning against the balcony next to him and handing one of the glasses over, her own gaze flickering out to the ocean's darkening hues as twilight crept over it.  
  
Adam took it with a murmur of thanks, though he didn't turn to look at her. That suited her just fine for the moment, and she took a healthy sip of the fine single malt he'd liberated from God knew where, somewhere along the way. For a while, they stood there, sipping their drinks as twilight slid into night. Only when the song of the evening birds and insects grew did she speak again, feeling the words pulled out of her.  
  
"It's so quiet. I still can't get used to that. The silence. Last time I was here, there was no way you would hear a bird song in the evening in the city, and definitely not out here. It was all..." She shook her head, taking another drink.  
  
"Some people are starting to think about reopening some of the restaurants," Adam said. "To give people a place to congregate in the evenings. Maybe even some of the clubs, beyond just the bars one goes to lose oneself in." Those hadn't really ever closed, following caravans of people as they moved across the country and setting themselves up on the ships that had brought them across the ocean to this small spot.  
  
"How many are here now?" Angela asked, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair back behind her ear from where it had blown free in the evening wind.  
  
"About two hundred thousand after the last ship arrived, Nathan said."  
  
"Enough for a thriving city," Angela murmured, gaze shifting down to the stretch of beach where one or two people lingered. A few lights were on down the stretch of it, but not many.  
  
"More than anywhere else in the world," Adam agreed. That had been the plan, after all. "There were surfers out there this morning."  
  
"Life goes on."  
  
"It always does."  
  
Angela couldn't help the flinch at the shadows in his voice at that, daring a glance toward his face, the one that hadn't changed since she was a girl, even as life and time ravaged hers. "What did Melvin say?"  
  
Adam made a soft sound of disgust, the first emotion she'd seen in a while crossing his face in a shadow of fury and hurt and betrayal and loss all tangled up in it. "The little idiot went back and told himself what was going to happen. To not trust me. To stop me."  
  
Angela swallowed back any comment that might suggest she at all agreed with her younger son. She didn't know anymore. She'd told Nathan to stop them, hadn't she? And yet part of her...part of her still believed Adam had been right. The dreams...she didn't have nightmares so often anymore. Sometimes she even dreamed things with hope in them. Wasn't that a sign? It hurt her heart to think on it too long though, the stench of the incinerators that had burned most of the people of the world never that far away in her memory.  
  
"How did you dissuade him?" she asked, unconsciously echoing Melvin. Adam obviously had done so, or they wouldn't be standing here now, having the discussion.  
  
Adam laughed at the question, softly, finally looking at her, turning his back on the nearly deserted beach. Meeting his eyes, Angela found herself wanting to step back from the bitterness there.  
  
"I let him read my mind," Adam told her quietly, echoing what he'd told Melvin in turn, before turning like a whip and hurling the crystal glass out toward the sea.  
  
* * *  
  
 _March 2007_  
  
"What are you planning to do with the virus?"  
  
Peter's voice broke the silence in the motel room that had lingered since he'd come in and slammed the door behind him. Adam had taken his glare in stride, with an arch of an eyebrow, and gone back to reading his book, stretched out on the bed nearest the window. Peter had glared some more then stomped off to slam the bathroom door, and Adam had felt the twinge of unease inside him start to grow. Something was wrong, very wrong, but he didn't know what or how anything in his perfect plan could have gone awry now. He'd waited, waited for the water to turn off, waited for the door to open again, waited for Peter to finish fussing around, waited as the boy threw himself on the other bed instead of beside him, and he had to endure his glare again. Waiting was something he was used to, after all, and Peter was not a patient soul--he'd come to the point eventually.  
  
And now he had.  
  
Adam looked over at him, setting the book he'd been thumbing through aside and pushed to a more seated position. "Do? I'm not going to _do_ anything with it, Peter. The Company's been holding it all these years. We're going to go save the world from them and their schemes."  
  
"I don't believe you." He looked like he wanted to, though, something twisting up in those brown puppy eyes that was nearly begging Adam to convince him he was telling the truth.  
  
Well, Adam had always been a sucker for a pair of earnest brown eyes.  
  
"What's happened, Peter? Why are you doubting me?" he asked him softly, a small frown tugging at his forehead.  
  
"I ran into someone, someone from the future. He said...he said you were going to release the virus, kill all those people, and I had to stop you." The words had an anguished undertone, a shattered belief lacing through them like shards of glass, and Adam felt something inside him twist in a dance of rage and pity.  
  
"From the future? Really? Who? Hiro?" He tried to make his voice dismissive. "Hiro Nakamura has had grand delusions about me for centuries--or, well, probably not centuries for him, but since the time I was your age. He's been determined to believe we're opponents in some grand cosmic scheme, ever since I refused to be his puppet any longer."  
  
Peter was shaking his head. "It wasn't Hiro, Adam, it was me. _I_ came back to warn myself...and if I can't believe myself..."  
  
A small flare of panic welled for a moment, but Adam forced it down, meeting Peter's eyes. "Are you sure?"  
  
"What?" Peter stared at him.  
  
"Are you sure it was you?"  
  
"I think I know myself, Adam."  
  
"Do you? Did you question this supposed you from the future? Ask him things only you could know? Did you demand any proof at all about this supposed plan of mine?" Adam managed to look offended, flashing Peter a wounded look.  
  
Peter hesitated. "Why would he lie?"  
  
"Because the Company wants to stop us, Peter," Adam said with a sigh. "There are specials out there with the ability to shapeshift and others with the ability to cast complex illusions, to look like anyone they want to look like, to make you believe they are who they say they are. Hell, even Parkman's father is strong enough to fuck with your head and make you believe you're chatting with yourself. Do you think the Company is completely without resources?"  
  
"No," Peter allowed, "But..."  
  
"But, what?" Adam half-snapped, swinging his legs off the bed to shift to fully face and stare at Peter. "What better way to stop us than to convince you I'm the bad guy here and set us upon each other? Sowing discord and distrust among the enemy is one of the most classic of tactics to defeat them." Which, no doubt, is what this Peter from the future was hoping for, damn him.  
  
"How can I trust you?" Peter asked, looking torn.  
  
Adam hesitated, watching him with wary eyes, keeping up the facade of being hurt by his accusations. He ran his fingers through his hair, seeming to consider every possibility, then sighed. "You can read my mind, if you want."  
  
Peter looked startled. "What?"  
  
"Read my mind," Adam repeated, a bit more insistently. "Delve in, find the truth for yourself about what I say. If you don't trust me, then use your abilities to test me, to figure it out for yourself."  
  
"You'd...let me do that?" Peter asked, staring at him a little uncertainly.  
  
Adam flashed him an annoyed look. "Well, if you're not going to take my word for anything, what choice do I have?"  
  
Peter had the grace to look vaguely ashamed, but then he shifted off of the other bed, kneeling in front of Adam, one hand reaching for his, as if that would give him a stronger connection. Adam twisted his around until he was holding Peter's, winding their fingers together and pressing their palms skin to skin. Peter swallowed, and Adam fixed his eyes on the movement of his throat. He felt the slight prodding of the boy's skill at the mental walls he kept erected, and he dropped them, closing his eyes.  
  
It was a skill he'd learned long ago, how to control his thoughts without seeming to. He focused on his hatred for the Company, the evil they'd done, the desperate need to see them stopped. He let his desire to save the world shine through, the intent behind it all stronger than any actual thoughts of _how_ to do so. He let the horror he felt, somewhere tucked deep inside, at what releasing the virus would do show. Causing that much suffering wasn't something he _wanted_ , after all, no matter the end result, and he let that part of him echo louder. Any thoughts of the world after, of the necessity of the action, of the fact of the world's decay, he kept viciously suppressed, tuned out by the pureness of the underlying intention.  
  
To control thoughts without seeming to was an exhausting process and by the time Peter pulled back, Adam felt as drained as the boy looked.  
  
"I'm sorry," Peter whispered, looking down. "I shouldn't have doubted you."  
  
Adam pulled him closer with a tug on their joined hands. "It's all right. Now you can be sure..."  
  
The boy's brown eyes flicked back to his, regret in them, and Adam let his free hand move to linger on the too pale cheek, thumb caressing along Peter's cheekbone. After a moment, he felt the shift as the boy leaned into his touch, eyes closing, and he allowed himself a smile.  
  
He'd won, for now.


	2. Chapter 2

June 2009

"You lied to me," Peter said, as he stormed into Adam's office.

Adam arched an eyebrow and looked up from the papers he'd been studying. "Actually, no. I didn't."

"I went back and told myself..."

"Yes, I'm quite aware," Adam interrupted. He waved away the security who'd hurried in behind Peter. However angry the empath was at him, killing him here and now served no purpose. It was the past that concerned Adam. "You've really got to stop doing that."

Peter stared at him, dumbfounded, as Adam looked back down at the paperwork. "Stop? After what you've done?"

"I've saved the world, Peter. You haven't any idea where it was heading, hurtling toward its own destruction..."

"So you decided to help it along."

The argument was an old one, repeating itself like a needle stuck in a groove for the past two years, and Adam took a moment to close his eyes, pressing his fingers to his temple as if that would ward off the onset of the headache he felt creeping up behind his eyes. "I decided to save it from itself."

"By killing everyone?"

"Peter, look outside. There are people on the beach today, people going to work, people doing their best to rebuild a better, stronger world. I gave them a fresh start..."

"You killed billions of people."

"Who were going to die anyway," Adam snapped, looking back up at him. "Either from a nuclear holocaust or biological warfare at the hands of extremists or old age, they were all going to die, and when they went, the world was going to be in worse shape than it had been. Now, at least, there is a chance for something better rather than a continual hurtling toward a wasteland."

Peter stared at him. "Who gave you the right to decide this was better?"

"God," Adam said, staring back, "When he made me what he did. Made me watch as the world declined, watch as humanity repeated its mistakes over and over and over again. Made me live through war after war, plague after plague, one dictatorship and extremist political regime after the next."

"You're insane," Peter breathed after a moment's stunned silence.

Adam shrugged slightly. "I've been called worse. I'm also right. You'll see, in time."

Peter was slowly shaking his head. "I'll stop you..."

"So you've said for nearly two years now, and yet, each time you fail. Don't you think it's about time you admitted this was meant to be, Peter? It's fate, destiny, the way things are supposed to be--whatever you want to call it. Nothing you do changes it, no matter how many butterflies you heedlessly trample. When are you going to resign yourself to that?" Adam stared at him, truly baffled.

"I can't," Peter said quietly. "I can't live with this, with what you...what we did. I have to change it, or die trying."

Adam closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to show how much that hurt. "Is that how you really feel?"

"Yeah. It is."

"So be it, then."

Peter's eyes widened as the Haitian stepped into the room, glancing at Adam, who opened his eyes and gave him a nod.

"Adam...?"

It was almost amusing how the boy could still manage to look betrayed. Adam forced himself not to look at him, focusing on Rene instead. "Take him."

He could hear Peter's protests hanging in the air for a long time after the larger man had dragged him away.

* * *

Night time was his favorite time to walk through the city. For all his aching desire to be the hero of the world, it had its drawbacks and simple freedom of movement was one of them. The survivors of the Shanti virus looked to him as their savior, both for bringing a cure to the world, and, for those here, at least, for bringing them here to a place they could live. Adam had chosen the island very carefully. It had the infrastructure in place to house people, and the climate they would need to grow food and survive. The feel of paradise was a balm to battered souls, as well, with lush vegetation, beautiful wildlife and crystal clear oceans. It was isolated from the devastation that was the mainland of America. What cars there had been littering the streets here had been removed, and much of the island had always been natural beauty, not built up with habitations that stood empty now.

They couldn't escape it all, of course. Even with the ships of survivors who'd come in droves, their population was under a quarter million on an island which had been home to almost a million before the plague. They tried, but they couldn't fill it up. Empty houses echoed when the wind blew through them, and businesses stood abandoned, with those wares not deemed supplies gathering dust. But it was better here than it would have been in Los Angeles or New York or one of the cities that had housed millions, now standing broken and abandoned. Honolulu's isolation had left it mostly untouched by looters, the bands of bandits who had drawn together when civilization fell, seeking power rather than community. There were a few broken windows to repair and kitchens to clean, but not nearly as much as would have been necessary had they stopped in any of the desolate cities they'd driven through on their trek to the ports that would bring them to the Mecca Hawaii had become.

Adam had planned this for too long, executed it too well. Gas guzzling cars were disposed of, hybrids and electric ones brought in on ships he had manned by crews he'd saved just for that purpose. Getting gas to the island would be a problem, and when they ran out no one wanted rusting heaps of junk on the side of the road as a reminder of what had been. Nature would creep back, retake the rest of the world, pull man's monuments down and leave something for the survivors of humanity's children to rediscover one day, but until then...until then he would keep them here, safe in their little piece of paradise, rebuilding a world based on a new paradigm, one he'd be around to make sure stayed in place.

Still, in the quiet of the night, the city still had an aching feel of emptiness to it. The lights of apartment buildings that glowed in the dark only seemed to highlight the desolate emptiness of streets where neon had once lit up entertainment after entertainment. No car horns broke the stillness, no music called like a siren to the pedestrians, no laughter rang from the bars that stood empty on the white sands of the beach. They would come, he knew. Human resilience demanded it, and he hadn't lied when he told Angela he'd had petitions for permits to reopen some of the entertainment centers. The population would support it, and while they had abandoned capitalism here in favor of a far more communal spirit of war torn survivors, finding a way to run a business wasn't out of the question. He supposed he'd have to set up some form of currency eventually, before everyone started bartering. He'd asked Nathan to think about it, actually.

He had far more pressing things on his mind, right now, like how to keep it all from just disappearing from under his fingertips.

Adam kicked a loose stone as he turned off the sidewalk and made his way down to the path that ran along the beach. Melvin was the only one who knew for certain how many times he'd gone back, but Peter's attempts to change things were reaching a new level of desperation. If he'd gone so far as to talk to himself, what would he try next? He could tell himself something he couldn't dispute. He might even go so far as to attempt to assassinate Adam. He hadn't yet, caught even after everythingl in the same threads of fondness and dependency that Adam felt wrapping around himself, but that didn't mean he wouldn't eventually, not if it meant saving the world.

Adam couldn't let him do that.

The sand shifted under his feet as he made his way down to the water, its rise and fall drawing his gaze as it seemed to so often these days. His thumb traced back and forth across his lower lip as he contemplated it. Killing Peter, as he'd killed Hiro, was the obvious and simplest solution. He regenerated, which meant he was immortal. Even if Adam could get him to acquiesce, now, there was no saying that Peter wouldn't spend a century gathering his will and strike when Adam least expected it, when he'd finally dropped his guard. That's what Adam would do, if he were him. Peter wasn't a strategist, but he could learn, and Adam couldn't allow that. All logic said he should put a bullet to the boy's brain and end him, no matter the pain it caused. It wouldn't mean he was alone forever, not anymore. There was the girl, Claire, and Sylar, as well. He could still build some sort of lasting connection with Peter gone.

But Peter would be gone.

Funny how he hadn't let those brown eyes and crooked smile sway him from doing what had to be done when he made this world, but he couldn't find the will to do what must be done to keep it.

"There has to be another way," Adam murmured to the ocean breeze, and though he knew there was, he found himself sick at the thought of it, as well. No bullet to the boy's brain, no, but he would lose him just the same, in the end.

Unless...his smile flickered slightly, though it had a sick edge to it, and he reached for his cell phone. Brilliant boy, Micah, getting the towers on the island to work again, he thought, as he punched in a number.

"Tell Suresh I need to see him."

* * *

The knocking on his door wasn't something Mohinder could ignore, though he gave it his best try for a few minutes. Night had fallen hours ago, and while he probably should have headed back to the apartment he'd claimed as his own, he found his time in the lab far more soothing than the attempts at pretending to have some sort of a normal life. Life wasn't normal, not anymore. People died. He couldn't save them, hadn't been able to manufacture an antidote fast enough, and for all that the antibodies in his blood mixed with Claire's and Adam's was a cure...he only had so much blood he could give at a time. Without a synthetic cure...

Without a synthetic cure, the world died in agony around him. The only blessing he could hold onto was that it had been quick. Once infected, most people died within a matter of days, some of them hours. Only a few lingered in agony, and those he generally did his best to save, to find his own strength and blood supply from one of the world's healers. All of it wound up being so little, in the end, though. Before the official governments collapsed completely, the decimation had been estimated at 93 percent. People had kept dying for weeks—months--after that. The latest statistics he'd heard were well over 99 percent, 99.6, 99.7...the exact numbers were uncertain. Ninety-nine percent of the world's population just...gone. Dead, lost for all time, wiped out in a matter of months.

Even now, even here in this paradise Adam Monroe was trying to build, the survivors moved with a shell-shocked gaze in their eyes. There were distractions, at least, and a desperate reminder of the beauty of the world around them. Mohinder had to give them man that--he'd planned well. But even the survivors carried still bleeding wounds in their psyche that they could only dream of one day becoming scars. This wasn't the generation that would prosper, Mohinder knew. Suicides were common, people giving in to the despair of having watched the world die. No, if Monroe was going to have his shining new world, it would be the next generation to start to bring it to fruition. Children forgot, children saw sun and water and flowers. They had food and people to love them, and they moved forward.

Maybe that was what the immortal was counting on, the geneticist thought wearily, as the knock sounded again. And that was why he slaved in this lab, as well, day after day, to help that generation. Because evolution favored the strong and in a society where the population had shifted to incorporate an overwhelming percentage of specials, non-specials were the ones most at risk. If he could tweak evolution, give it a helping hand...then even the children born without abilities naturally would have a chance.

Pushing back from the table, he moved to the door, staring at the man on the other side with an inquiring look laced with resignation.

Sylar smirked slightly. "Adam wants to see you."

"Now?" Mohinder asked, trying to find some flare of anger to remind him of the life before, the man he'd been. But the virus outbreak provided a sharp line of demarcation, and what had come before had ceased to matter long ago.

 

Sylar reached out, brushing fingers lightly down his cheek in a caress that was becoming more and more familiar. "That was the impression I got, yes."

However much he wanted to lean into that soft touch, to let his own exhaustion take over and accept the offered comfort, Mohinder resisted, not flinching away, but rather straightening and giving the other man a slight nod. "Let me get my things."

Sylar shrugged, moving into the lab and leaned against the wall, and Mohinder tried not to think about how at home he looked there, instead moving to grab what he needed and push it into a messenger bag.

"Let's go."

* * *

The house he'd claimed was on a bluff outside of the downtown limits, overlooking the ocean he'd loved since before all of this journey began. The boy he'd been then was lost in some mist of time Adam couldn't quite recall, but the ocean stirred the memory, as if it were buried in his pores, of something simpler, of something normal he'd been denied for too many centuries. He was sitting in one of the lounge chairs, sipping another whiskey for all the good it did when he heard the steps. Glancing up, he gave Sylar a slight smile, then nodded to Mohinder behind him.

"Thank you for coming so promptly."

"Did I really have a choice?" Mohinder said, shifting the bag off his shoulder and moving to lean against the balcony, fixing him with a glare Adam was fairly certain would be impressive if he were a man easily quelled.

"We always have choices, Doctor," he said mildly. "Would you like a drink, either of you?"

Sylar shook his head, leaning against the balcony door, putting himself between Mohinder and the exit in a move that made Adam smile slightly. Mohinder declined as well. Adam shrugged.

"I won't keep you long. I just wanted an update on the progress of the formula."

"And that couldn't wait 'til morning?" Mohinder asked.

"Did Sylar wake you?" Adam asked in return.

"No," Mohinder confessed after a moment. "I was working."

"Then I don't see the problem. The formula, Doctor?"

Mohinder sighed and ran a hand through his curls. "With the addition of the catalyst from Claire, it seems to have stabilized. I think it's ready for human tests."

"Good." Adam smiled, a ripple of pleasure running through him. He took a sip of his drink, held the burning liquid in his mouth for a moment before swallowing for the only real sensation he could get from it anymore, then sighed. "I have a hypothetical to put to you."

Mohinder arched an eyebrow, looking as if he was trying to not be intrigued and failing miserably at it.

"Say one of us were to lose our abilities, be rendered a non-special. If such a person were to be given the formula, do you think it would restore the same ability the person had before, or would it give them something completely different?"

"How would someone lose their ability?" Mohinder asked, looking confused. "The Company looked for a cure for thirty years without success..."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Let's not bring what the Company did or did not do into this, shall we? Say something existed which could render us non-special. A cure, if you will, or something else entirely, it doesn't much matter how..."

"But it could," Mohinder objected. "If a person lost their ability due to genetic altering, that would be one thing. When they are unable to access it due to drugs, or the virus, that's another all together."

Adam hesitated, then nodded slightly. "All right. Give me both scenarios."

Mohinder stared at him for a moment, then started slowly. "The formula wouldn't affect someone rendered incapacitated due to drugs or illness, I don't think. We're talking about genetic mutation, here, awakening the part of the brain that controls these sorts of thing. A person who is just ill or drugged still has their ability, still has their mutation and full access to it. Something's just blocking them, and the formula isn't intended to remove those sorts of artificial blocks."

"And if they had truly lost it? Had it...taken from them, say?"

Sylar shifted behind him, his discomfort with the conversation more than obvious, but Adam didn't glance back. He wasn't planning on threatening his second-in-command, after all. Sylar could live with the discomfort for a little while.

"I would think that it would be more successful on such a person. Those who have abilities versus those who don't is genetically hardwired in, in some ways, but every human being has some evolutionary potential locked inside them. If a person had theirs shut down, the formula should reopen it, and if it were on a person whose natural state was that open, it should do so even more easily."

"And the ability they gained back...would it be identical?"

"Theoretically," Mohinder said slowly. "The abilities humans develop are based upon our blood, our unique DNA signature. If they developed one way naturally, I would think that the formula would retrigger the same thing and cause them to develop the same--or at least highly similar--again."

Adam fell silent for a few long moments, finishing his drink while the other two waited, standing where they were, looking at each other over his head in some sort of silent communication he figured they had worked out through the years.

"So...correlating to that, say something stripped Sylar of his powers," Adam suggested, and caught Sylar standing up fast from the corner of his eye. He waved a hand at him and shot him a glance with a bit of a frown. "Hypothetically. And then you gave him the formula. Would he regain all of what he had before, or just his original ability?"

Mohinder stared at Adam for a long moment, something conflicted in his eyes, then glanced at Sylar for just as long, before looking back at him. "I can't be certain, but I would assume he would regain his aptitude, and have to set about collecting the others again, since those were, in effect, learned or acquired and not naturally his. Losing his abilities would erase them from his neural pathways and the formula couldn't give them all back."

Adam smiled, though it wasn't at all warm, and held an edge of dangerous glee. "Thank you, Doctor. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. Why don't you go home and get some rest? We'll start trials on the formula in a few days."

Mohinder gave him a nervous look, then nodded, taking his dismissal and moving toward the door. Sylar didn't move out of his way for a long moment, but finally stepped back, letting him go. One glance at Adam, though, and getting a nod of dismissal of his own from the immortal, he followed the geneticist back out into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

"What is he planning?" Mohinder asked, feeling his stomach twisting in various different directions, trying to form knots but just roiling around in the end.

Sylar shrugged in the dark, a silent shadow trailing along beside him. Seeing him home, Mohinder supposed, though there had been no order given. Was it Adam's idea, or Sylar's? And why did he care, given everything else?

A pale hand reached to take the bag from him, and though Mohinder clung for a moment to the papers and charts he'd expected Adam to ask for, he finally relinquished it to Sylar's grasp. Sylar slung the bag over his own shoulder, and they walked a few more blocks in silence, before Sylar finally volunteered, "Peter's becoming more and more of a problem."

Mohinder shot him a sideways look. "Trying to fix things?"

Sylar nodded.

"You'd think he'd just kill him and get rid of the problem," Mohinder said glumly, something like despair sliding through him.

"He won't," Sylar said. "Or he'll hold it as a last option."

"Why?" Mohinder asked, stopping mid-step and giving him a more full look this time, bemused.

Sylar stared back at him like he was an idiot. "Because he loves him," he said, as if explaining to a dim-witted child. "He'll try everything else, do anything he can, to try and make it work and keep Peter safe at the same time, before he's forced to decide if he loves his Brave New World or Petrelli more."

Mohinder sensed something else behind the words, but brushed them off a bit, focusing on the facts instead of impressions. "Is he insane? After what he's done? How could Peter ever love him?"

Something flickered in Sylar's eyes, there and gone before Mohinder could identify it. Sylar looked away and started walking again. "Love makes idiots out of people, Suresh. Even immortal rulers of the world."

Mohinder hurried to catch up with Sylar's long strides, a frown pulling at his brow. "I can't help him. I mean, I can't...if he's going to...Peter's my friend..."

Sylar snorted slightly. "Who's to say that any world Peter goes back and makes will be any better?"

"Everyone is dead, Sylar," Mohinder snapped.

"We're not, Mohinder," Sylar snapped back. "The world's still here. It will revive."

Mohinder stared at him for a long time, then said, quietly, "You think this is...a good thing?"

Sylar shrugged, staring off at the buildings in front of them blankly. "I don't know. But there were things I saw...things I drew...before the virus. Things that were worse than this. I don't draw them anymore."

Mohinder watched him, then let his eyes fall to the ground, no words coming to respond to that. When he felt Sylar reach for his hand, fingers wrapping around his in a warm grip, though, he didn't pull away.

* * *

Adam entered the room without knocking, nodding at Rene and gesturing for him to wait outside. The Haitian nodded back and Adam saw him position himself right outside the door before he closed it and turned to look at Peter.

"You can't keep me on the Haitian's leash for eternity, Adam," Peter said bitterly, stopping the pacing he'd been doing by the windows.

"No, I can't," Adam agreed. "And I won't try to, not for much longer. Just a day or two."

"I won't stop," Peter warned.

"You will," Adam said, softly, moving to sit on the bed. "I came to ask you, one last time, to do so of your own volition. To trust me, that this is for the best, that it is what's necessary, that I know it hurts now, and the cost was astronomical, but we have saved the world, and humanity itself."

"Trust you?" Peter said, with a disbelieving laugh.

Adam regarded him steadily. "Yes." He reached into the portfolio he carried and pulled out a drawing. "I showed you this before, Peter. This is what would have happened had I not acted."

Peter regarded the sketch of the Earth exploding, splitting apart from the inside dispassionately. "That's terribly convenient to have."

"Your mother dreamed it in 1975," Adam said, repeating what he'd said so many times before in some desperate need for him to believe. "Every time we tried to prevent something, the apocalypses just got worse. We didn't know how, or why, or what would cause it, but it wasn't anything natural. It was people. A weapon, too many people, something. The world itself was gone, Peter. There's no coming back from that. Now...she doesn't dream that anymore. Sylar...when he sketches the future, there's nothing horrific in it. And you....you have both gifts, Peter. Use them instead of this desperate need to change the past. Look to the future. Hell, travel to it...look at the way we are going, beyond the struggles of here and now...I did the right thing."

Peter was pale, something torn in his eyes, and for a moment Adam thought he had gotten through to him, but then he was shaking his head. He moved to kneel next to Adam, reaching a trembling hand to brush over his cheek. His own voice was just as pleading as Adam's had been. "I know you think that. I do. I know you don't think what you've done is evil. I know...if this is the world we're stuck with, you're the one who can help, because you've planned, and you're here, and you'll be here to see it through, but Adam...even if everything you're saying is true, it doesn't justify killing over six billion people."

"Not even for the future of the billions to come?" Adam asked.

"Not even for that," Peter said. "There's always another way. Always. You went too far, and I...I have to change that. I have to save all those people..."

"And what if in doing that, you doom all those that could have come?" Adam argued.

"The future isn't written in stone. We have to do what's right and let that guide our actions. We're not God..."

"Yet you're trying to play Him, as much as I was, in trying to undo what's been done. In thinking you know better. What's done is done, Peter, and you have no idea what you'll usher in by changing the past." Adam gave him a bitter smile. "Just look at what Hiro did..."

Peter flinched a bit and dropped his hand. Adam grabbed it before he could pull away, and Peter paused, looking up at him with sorrowful eyes. "And look what you did to him for it. And what about Nathan?" A bit of anger flashed behind the sorrow.

"Nathan is fine," Adam protested. "Nathan is alive. His sons are alive. He's doing work he feels is meaningful. He's making a difference..."

"You know what I mean," Peter snapped.

Adam tightened his grip on Peter's fingers. "What's done is done," he repeated.

"Because you did it," Peter countered.

"We're just going in circles..." Adam let go of Peter with a sigh, but the boy stayed where he was.

"Please, Adam. Just...let me go back. Let me fix this."

"You've tried, time after time," Adam pointed out. "I can't let you go back and do something desperate..."

Peter looked a little shocked. "Do you think I'd hurt you....?"

Adam's smile flashed, twisted and bitter, not at all reassured by the sense that Peter hadn't actually considered it. It was just a matter of time. "It's the way of the world."

"No..." Peter sighed, then shifted to sit on the bed, taking Adam's face in his hands and resting his forehead against his. "I...Listen, I could go back to before, before we escaped from Primatech. I'd just go to Odessa and do what we were going to, destroy the virus. Then when we got out...there'd be nothing there for us to find, and I'd never know that's what you wanted. You...we...I'd wait, even. Make sure I don't get sent to Ireland, and we could be together. Isn't that what you want? None of this would have happened, but I wouldn't have any reason to distrust you. You could go back to being my hero, and there'd be no virus to release and we could find another way to make those visions not come true. Together."

Adam closed his eyes and leaned into Peter, letting his words paint a picture of a reality he could see as so seductive. The picture of them together, with none of this distrust, this anger between them was an alluring one, but at what cost? The world? Peter thought he was saving them, but Adam knew it would only be a matter of time before he had to act, had to do something, and then what? Then they started this whole thing over again, because nothing he ever saw as necessary was going to sit right with a Peter who hadn't been through the fire. This way, like this, Peter would eventually see things could be good, again. He'd see society flourish, once more, see it improve, see the world begin to regain its ground and equilibrium and he'd know, then, that Adam was right. When the nightmares no longer came, when the paintings showed clear skies and hope and prosperity for humankind, he'd know. Wasn't it even in nearly every movie where any sort of functional, healthy society came forward, that it did so after a disaster? Society did not change on its own. It just moved forward, always the same, never changing, never growing. It took disaster to bring humanity together and make them grow. Anything less and they settled into complacency and moral rot and petty disagreements.

Peter's fingers ghosted along his jaw, a sweet touch Adam wanted to give in to, and for a moment his resolve wavered. He was selfish, by nature, after all, and if he could have his life, his happiness, what matter the cost? Except...that made him unworthy somehow, of Peter, he was certain. Thoughts twisting around in a whirlwind, he shifted just a bit closer to the boy, sliding his arms around him in turn, fingers tracing the line of his spine under his shirt.

"Please..." Peter murmured, and Adam brought him the breath closer needed to capture his lips, tasting the saltwater of his tears between them, and pretended that for the moment he was surrendering. Peter's breath caught on a sob, though whether in relief or because Adam's pretense was too thin, the immortal had no way of knowing. Then he was returning the kiss, pulling Adam down onto him and the bed, and for a little while, Adam let himself believe everything was as it should be.


	4. Chapter 4

Some enterprising soul had gotten the newspaper printing presses working, and Angela flipped through the paper as she sipped her coffee. Buildings that had been cleared, businesses that were ready for opening, supplies that had been found, the state of the harvest, and lists of people, always the lists. New arrivals, their names, their former residences, the family and friends they were searching for; names of those lost by those who wished to memorialize them; names of those still searching, no matter how long they'd been here and that they must have seen them all. A boat was coming in next week, and there would be a crowd at the dock, pressing against each other in frantic waves, searching the worn, terrified faces of the disembarking refugees in hope of catching a glimpse of someone they had lost. Sometimes cries went up, joyous and thankful, and tears poured out of everyone's eyes as they watched loved ones be reunited, falling to the boards of the pier, clinging in a tight embrace.  
  
More often, the crowd dispersed slowly, with softer tears of resignation falling, while those in charge of greeting the newcomers and getting them settled took over with brisk, but kind, efficiency.  
  
She was lucky, Angela knew. Friends had fallen and none of her social circle had survived that she knew of, but her sons were both well, and she could hear her grandsons laughing over something in the other room as they got ready for school. Across town, in another room, under a lock that couldn't be broken, even one she would have preferred to have lost paced back and forth in a sterile cell.  
  
And the nightmares were gone. She'd dreamed last night, and the things she'd seen had hurt, but it was a quiet pain, a mother's pain, not horror of the future to come.   
  
So, yes, she was lucky. She told herself that, every day. She had a home to which she was accustomed. She had the respect and protection of the leader of the surviving world. All it had cost was an apology, a little loss of pride, and a devil's bargain. The cost could have been so much higher.  
  
"I'm gonna take the boys to school, then head on in to the office, Ma," Nathan said, coming out and grabbing a piece of toast off the table on the lanai, before leaning down to kiss her cheek.  
  
"Don't you want some coffee?" Angela asked, giving him a look.  
  
Nathan waved a hand. "I put some in a travel mug in the kitchen. I need to get in. Adam's got something to do and needs me to see to the preparations for the clearing out of Haleiwa. We're sending a team up there next week, and there's still a lot to be done."  
  
"He thinks spreading out is a good idea already?" Angela asked, frowning. "We've hardly reached capacity here."  
  
"Yeah, but reestablishing a presence on the North Shore will be helpful for the fishing industry," Nathan explained. "The shrimp beds are up there, for one, and some of the better fishing."  
  
Angela nodded a bit, then took a breath, trying to shake off the melancholy from her dream. "All right. Did he say anything about coming by today?"  
  
Nathan gave her a slightly surprised look, then nodded. "He did. He said he'd be by after breakfast with Pete, actually." He frowned a little. "Pete's okay, isn't he?"  
  
Angela's smile was sad. "You know your brother. He'll be fine, but...."  
  
"But he can't accept what's happened," Nathan said with a sigh.  
  
"I'm not sure he ever will."  
  
Nathan looked troubled. "Maybe I should try talking to him again?"  
  
Angela mustered a smile and shook her head. "Maybe. But not today. Today...today you go on into work and let us take care of Peter."  
  
Something more angry and protective than worried flashed in Nathan's eyes. "You're not going to hurt him." It wasn't a question.  
  
Angela shook her head. "No. That's the last thing Adam wants. He's...very fond of your brother. But...he needs to be contained before he goes back and does something he'll regret for the rest of his very long life."  
  
"You think Pete could be the one to cause...all those things you saw?" Nathan asked.  
  
"I don't know," Angela said with a shrug. "He has the power for it, or he could have, or maybe he could just set things in motion to take us right to some outcome worse than anything we've ever imagined."  
  
"Just...don't hurt him, Ma, okay? Don't let Adam get...the way he does. He listens to you." Nathan leaned down and gave her another kiss.  
  
"I'll make sure your brother is kept safe," Angela promised.  
  
Nathan nodded slightly, and then moved back inside, calling for the boys and herding them out the door. Angela watched him go with a thoughtful frown. Wouldn't it be lovely, if Maury's ability could work as smoothly on Peter as it had Nathan, quieting his doubts, bringing him on board with the plan, giving him a peace about it? But Peter healed from anything the telepath did, if he didn't outright resist it, and his fury over their meddling with Nathan's mind had nearly driven him from any ties with all of them. Only the sheer emptiness of the world pulled him back, she knew. She could still see the betrayal in his eyes when he looked at her. But it was a small price to bear, she told herself again. The irony that she had allowed to be done to Nathan what she tried to kill her husband for doing to her was not lost on her, but it was just this once, she swore. Just this once, just so they could all be happy.  
  
She was lucky, and there was no use rocking the boat with what might have beens.  
  
* * *  
  
The car ride across town was quiet, which Adam appreciated. There was a knot in his stomach that had been there since he'd woken up wrapped in Peter's arms, and found himself imagining that every day could be like this, and questioning if the few moments he got of this would be the cost for what he was about to do. How much was too much to ask someone to forgive? Not that Peter had forgiven him the rest, but he found his way back to Adam's arms and bed like a moth to a flame, even in his anger and betrayal. But would this be the step too far?   
  
Angela looked as composed as always, in a lightweight peach colored suit, as if this were a social call or a pleasant outing. There was a pensive line to her lips, though, if you knew where to look, how to look, and he saw shadows in her eyes. Had she dreamed something? Would she tell him if she had, or let him pursue this anyway? Her sphinx's gaze slid away any time he tried to catch it, settling on the passing scenery.  
  
Rene sat across from them, as impassive and silent as ever, and if he had an opinion on what was about to happen, he wasn't volunteering it. Madame had told him to do as Adam ordered when he'd saved their lives, and the Haitian had proven himself a staunch ally since then. Adam flicked him a gaze, and met the quiet one he received. It would be a hard day for him, perhaps, or at least taxing. None of them were going to come out of this singing and dancing in pleasure, that was for sure, but Adam was killing two birds with one stone, and that evened out the twisting pain of it. It had to.  
  
Peter looked between them with wide, anxious eyes. Rene's power had been rendering him helpless, normal, for over 24 hours now, and Adam knew it wasn't something he was used to. He hated to put him through it, hated more to do what he was about to, but it would just be temporary. Suresh would see to that. Once or twice Peter tried to speak up, to ask them where they were going, but no one answered, and he finally lapsed into an almost frightened silence, looking as if he wanted to reach out to one of them, any of them, but not knowing how to, or what would happen.  
  
Adam took his hand when they got out of the car in front of the cold gray building, fingers curling around his in a strong grip he hoped was reassuring.   
  
"What is this place?" Peter asked, resisting the tug toward the doors.  
  
"It's sort of our equivalent to Level 5," Adam told him calmly. "In a world with so many specials, some of them are refusing to conform, even after having their lives saved and other incentives." Sylar had seen the wisdom of joining Adam quick enough. Others, sadly, had not. One wasn't offered the option.  
  
"You're going to lock me up?" Peter stared at him, horror flickering in his eyes. "Put me back in a cage, and what? Throw away the key until I see sense? How could you? After what was done to you..."  
  
Adam sighed. "No, Peter. The only people locked up are those who are a danger to the innocent survivors here. There is some debate if we should keep them here, where at least they are fed and have shelter, or turn them loose into exile off of the islands, back to the mainland. In the end, I suspect, the decision will be to offer them that choice to make for themselves."  
  
"Then why are we here, if you're not...putting me here?"  
  
Adam gave him an oblique look. "We're going to pay a visit to someone."  
  
Peter fell silent, and they entered the building, nodding at the guards. No one spoke again as they moved down the corridors to a room in the center. Adam stared through the window dispassionately and met the furious gaze of the man he'd once called his best friend. No longer after the magnitude of his betrayal had sunk in, no more after what he'd learned of what he'd done to those Adam loved. But once upon a time, he'd trusted him with everything. He pressed the intercom.  
  
"I've brought you visitors."  
  
"Well, isn't this a surprise? Hello, dear. Peter. How good of you to come to see me."  
  
Peter was staring through the glass, shocked. He looked at Adam, then Angela, then stared back through the window. "...Dad?"  
  
* * *  
  
The aroma of fresh ground coffee brewing pulled Mohinder from sleep. He blinked hazily for a moment, trying to figure out why there was coffee. Keeping the maker plugged in all night to set the timer wasted electricity, so he just put a pot on to brew before he went and showered. Stretching, he ran his fingers over the rumpled sheets of the bed and found the other side of the bed still holding a lingering warmth.  
  
That was enough to have him scrambling out of bed and into his jeans. In the kitchen, he stopped and stared at Sylar who was leaning up against the counter with a cup of coffee. A mixing bowl rested next to the stove, a griddle atop it heating. Mohinder's gaze flicked back to Sylar, who looked up from the book he'd been reading. The other man was just in jeans as well, bare feet and bare chest looking perfectly at home in Mohinder's kitchen, and for a moment, Mohinder was at a loss for words.  
  
"Do you want eggs with your pancakes?" Sylar asked, as if they had this conversation every day.  
  
"You're making breakfast?" Mohinder rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Are you always this observant in the morning, Mohinder?" Sylar's lips curved in a bit of a smirk.  
  
"You're still here."  
  
"Very good. And this is a kitchen, and there is coffee, which I think you might need."  
  
"You're never still here in the morning," Mohinder said, finally getting his point out.  
  
Sylar watched him for a moment, then shrugged and turned to the cabinets to get another cup down, pouring Mohinder some coffee. He brought it over, placing it in the Indian's hand, giving him a look from under his brows. "I thought I'd try something new."  
  
Mohinder clutched at the coffee like it was going to make everything make sense. "Oh."  
  
They stood there for a moment, neither blinking or looking away, before Sylar moved, leaning in to brush his lips against Mohinder's in a gentle caress of a kiss that was nothing like the ones he'd assaulted him with before the first time and each subsequent time they'd wound up tangled in the sheets and each other. "Do you want eggs?" he repeated softly, breath warm over Mohinder's skin.  
  
"Yes, please," Mohinder murmured back, swallowing as Sylar moved away again. His knees were a little shaky as he sank into the chair at the kitchen table.  
  
"How do you like them?"  
  
"Scrambled is fine." Mohinder took a long gulp of coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue a bit, but he needed something to insert reality into this situation.  
  
"Adam called," Sylar remarked as he cracked eggs efficiently into another bowl.  
  
That did it, jerking Mohinder awake. "What did he want?"  
  
"Just to let us know he'd like you to bring the formula by the Petrelli place this evening," Sylar remarked.  
  
"So soon?" Mohinder asked, dismay running through him.  
  
Sylar shrugged, getting out a frying pan for the eggs and dumping some butter in it to melt. He looked back over his shoulder at Mohinder, fixing him with an intense look. "You said it was ready for testing..."  
  
"Does he really want me to make _Peter_ my first test subject?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"I can't do that," Mohinder said, mouth setting in a stubborn line. "I won't."  
  
Sylar arched one eyebrow silently, inquiring with a look just what the hell Mohinder was thinking.  
  
"Whatever he's doing to him to rip his powers away...it won't be easy on his body, and to just flood him with a formula immediately after...? As a _test_?" Mohinder looked appalled.  
  
"He may not have thought of that," Sylar said after a moment. "I'll call him and point that out. But he's going to want it soon, and to know for sure...."  
  
Mohinder looked down at his coffee cup, staring into the dark depths of it. "I can find out for sure."  
  
* * *  
  
Angela reached out a hand to slide it over Peter's, where Adam still held his other. "It's all right, Peter. Hello, Arthur."  
  
"How...You said he was dead," Peter said, staring at Angela for a moment, before looking back through the window like Arthur was some sort of zoo animal.  
  
"I thought he was. Turns out, he faked it," she said. "He was ill, and he chose to hide away. Adam found him in a private facility after the virus broke out. He healed him, then brought him here."  
  
"Ill?" Arthur said scoffingly. "You _poisoned_ me."  
  
Peter stared between them, horrified. Angela just arched an eyebrow. "And you attempted to murder Nathan. I was protecting my son, and myself."  
  
"After what you did, I'm surprised she didn't shoot you," Adam remarked, almost cheerfully.  
  
"Shut up, Adam."  
  
"Now, now. Is that any way to talk to me when I've brought you a gift?"  
  
Arthur flashed a look to him, eyes narrowing. "A gift? I don't suppose you'd like to come in here and shake my hand?"  
  
Adam laughed. "I think I'll pass. But I thought you might want to have some...quality time with your son."  
  
Arthur went very still, staring at Adam, then looked at Peter assessingly, before cutting his gaze back to Adam. "Why?"  
  
Adam shrugged. "He's your son, Arthur. Don't you miss him?"  
  
"That's not what this is about. The boy's causing you trouble, and you think I can fix it?"  
  
"I think you are what you are," Adam said, mouth tightening into a firm line.  
  
"What are you two talking about?" Peter demanded, fingers tightening on Adam's. "Adam...?"  
  
"It's going to be all right, Peter."  
  
"What are you going to do?"  
  
"I'm not going to do anything." He tore his gaze away from Arthur's, flipped off the intercom and looked at Peter, lifting a hand to cradle his cheek. "Tell me you'll stop trying to change the past, Peter. Promise me you'll let things play out how they're supposed to, and we can leave..."  
  
Peter shot a look through the glass, then back at Adam. "Why is my Dad in there?"  
  
"Because he is dangerous," Adam said. "Because he hurt your mother. Because he hurt Nathan. Because I promised to keep them safe, and when I found out he was alive, killing him or locking him up was the only way to do that."  
  
"He tried to kill Nathan? Not Linderman?" Peter looked to Angela for confirmation.  
  
Angela nodded, tears in her eyes. "He did. And he...he's a telepath, Peter. A very strong one. He played with my memories for decades, making me do as he wanted until Daniel healed me after the attack on Nathan."  
  
"Like what you did to Nathan," Peter said, giving Adam an angry look.  
  
"Far worse," Adam said. "I just saw to it Nathan was able to be happy in this new world. Every decision he's made since then has been his own."  
  
"Based on a lie..."  
  
"He was going to let you blow up New York in order to save the world, Peter," Adam pointed out, a little dryly. "It was hardly much of a push to convince him I was right."  
  
"Still..."  
  
"There are more important concerns here, Peter, than what was or was not done to Nathan," Angela interjected. "Your father made him, and me, and you, in many ways, a victim for too long. Don't let him again. Do what Adam asks."  
  
Peter spun from looking at Adam to stare at her. "Or what? He mindfucks me, too? It doesn't take, Mom. Rene can't erase my memories, and telepaths can't even read me."  
  
"I know," Angela said, looking sad. "But you're so special, and what he could do..."  
  
"What can he do?" Peter demanded.  
  
"Take it all." Adam said, softly. "You mimic others' powers, Peter. He takes them, rips them out of them and claims them as his own, leaving the person a non-special."  
  
Peter froze where he was, his breathing harsh in the stillness of the hallway. After a few long moments, he turned to look at Adam. "You wouldn't. I'd die....You like that I can't, and this...this would be just as bad as putting a bullet in my brain, in the long run."  
  
"I've thought of that," Adam said, swallowing. There was no guarantee Suresh's formula would work the way he theorized it would, after all. "But I can't let you undo everything, Peter, and I would rather have you around for another fifty years than lose you forever now."  
  
"You'd really kill me to stop me." It wasn't a question, not anymore. The realization was there in Peter's eyes, shocked and cold and empty.  
  
"Yes, if I have to," Adam lied. "Don't make me."  
  
"I won't forgive you. I won't...be with you if you do this," Peter threatened.  
  
If Adam flinched internally, it didn't show. "That's your decision. Your choice. So is this. Promise me you'll stop, and we'll all walk out of here, and things can be how they're supposed to be. Or go in there."  
  
"And when he has all of my powers?"  
  
"I won't lock you up," Adam said. "I won't throw away your key. I can't do that to you. But I have absolutely no problem doing it to him."  
  
"He'll be immortal," Peter said.  
  
Adam shrugged, and realization flickered in Peter's eyes. "You're not going to keep him locked up. You don't have any problem doing anything to him that you would hesitate to do to me." Adam didn't say anything. Angela's fingers tightened on Peter's. "So, it's not just my powers or my freedom....it's my life for his."  
  
Adam just looked at him. Peter glanced back at Angela. She still had tears in her eyes, but they weren't falling. He pulled free from them both and moved slowly to the door. A buzzer sounded somewhere. Peter stepped into the cell and the buzzer sounded again behind him, locking him in with his father, and Adam gestured at Rene to step away.


	5. Chapter 5

"This is crazy," Sylar protested. "I'm not going to let you do this."  
  
Mohinder didn't spare him so much as a glance, moving around the lab at a feverish pace, checking things on this computer and then on that monitor.   
  
"Mohinder..."  
  
"I'm not going to let either of you put this into a weakened Peter who's had who knows what done to him," Mohinder said.  
  
"Well, I'm not going to let you put it into _yourself_ when you don't know what it will do," Sylar practically yelled.  
  
The yelling snapped Mohinder to attention, and he stared at Sylar. "It will work. Claire's provision of the catalyst assures it. This is the same formula that gave Nathan his abilities. Niki."  
  
"Oh, yes, because it worked so well on Niki," Sylar snapped. "What if you got it wrong?"  
  
"I didn't," Mohinder said, running a hand through his hair. "Besides...I always intended to test it on myself. Adam just...sped up the timetable."  
  
"What?" Sylar stared at him.  
  
"What?" Mohinder echoed, glaring at him. "Do you think I _like_ running around, practically helpless against all of you? Do you think I feel _safe_ , ever? How many times have I been held at the mercy of one of you?"  
  
"You mean of me," Sylar said dully.  
  
Mohinder just stared at him for a long moment, then turned away. "There are other people out there, just as dangerous, now. Molly...I couldn't protect her. She was right to want to go with Daphne and Matt rather than stay with me. They can keep her safe. I can't. I couldn't..." His shoulders drooped.  
  
Sylar moved closer, sliding his hand down his back. "This isn't the answer."  
  
"Then give me another."  
  
"I'll protect you."   
  
Mohinder froze at that, every muscle tightening to the point he was certain he couldn't breathe even if he was suffocating, which he quickly thought he might be. Surely lack of oxygen was the reason for the rush of dizziness in his head? "What?" He managed to gasp out.  
  
Sylar's hands were on his shoulders, turning him, and he found himself staring into the former killer's eyes, treated to one of the more honest looks the other man had ever given him. "I'll protect you," he repeated quietly. "I won't let anyone hurt you, not again. Or Molly, for that matter, even if...she never knows I'm there."  
  
"Why?" Mohinder asked, staring at him.  
  
One of those hands he was getting accustomed to touching him in ways not meant to hurt, slid along his neck to cradle it, thumb brushing over his skin. "For a brilliant scientist, you're occasionally on the slow side, Suresh."  
  
Mohinder swallowed, feeling nerves tremble inside of him, demanding a response he wasn't sure how to give. "Oh."  
  
One dark eyebrow arched. "Oh? I offer...and you say oh?"  
  
"I just...I didn't...I thought..." No real response was managing to come, and snark seemed uncalled for at the moment. That this was something more to Sylar than physical comfort had never occurred to him. What it was to him he'd avoided thinking about.  
  
"And what are you thinking now?"  
  
Mohinder slid one hand along Sylar's, closing his eyes briefly, then leaned in and kissed him, just once. "That I have to do this. I don't want to be protected, Sylar. I want to be able to stand on my own in this world, whatever happens. And I think...we need to talk, but. After I do this."  
  
Sylar's hand fell away abruptly. "And if you kill yourself?" he asked shortly.  
  
"I'm not going to kill myself," Mohinder said, opening his eyes. "I've tested it enough to know that..."  
  
"You said it to Adam, yourself--you're rewriting things in your genetic code."  
  
"But...like Nathan was, I'm an ideal candidate," Mohinder said quietly. "My sister was a special, Sylar. My blood holds the antibodies to the virus that wiped out the world, one that started out targeting specials only, even if I haven't figured out how to synthetically replicate it, yet. I'm in this, genetically, already, just like Nathan was the child of two specials with a brother who was a special...we just need a push. For others, I don't know if it would work as quickly, or as well, but for people like us...people like who Peter will be...whatever Adam's doing to him, he'll still be the son of two specials when all is said and done. Who else can I test it on, to know if it will work?"  
  
Sylar stared at him, scowling. "You sure you just don't want to be special?"  
  
Mohinder gave him a wry smile. "No. I'm not sure. But that doesn't invalidate my argument."   
  
Sylar sighed, slumping against a table. "I'm not going anywhere until it's over."  
  
Mohinder's smile softened into something more real, even as he reached for the syringe. "Thank you."  
  
* * *  
  
Part of Adam wanted to break the glass down the moment Arthur touched Peter. He flipped the intercom on, just so he could hear, and the older man didn't even say anything soothing to his son, no kind word, nothing. He could have refused, could have done a dozen different things to spite Adam, but he just reached for the power greedily and stripped it from his son's body. Adam saw the way Peter jerked as the air glowed around him and his father, heard the pain in his cry, and felt sick as he watched him crumple to the floor as Arthur released him.  
  
"What have I done?" he murmured to himself.  
  
"What you had to, as always," Angela said, reaching to place a hand on the small of his back as Arthur turned to face them. There was murder in his eyes, and he shifted, giving Adam a small smirk, even as Adam gave a wave of his hand down the hall.  
  
"Thank you, Adam. I'll be seeing you around." He paused, looking like he was concentrating, and then flashed Adam a furious look. "What did you do?"  
  
Adam arched an eyebrow, his voice scathing. "Did you really think I was going to bring you the power to teleport and just let you disappear?" Rene stepped into view, having just gone one step far enough to let Arthur's power work, and moving back as soon as the exchange was done. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"  
  
Arthur snarled something under his breath. "The Haitian can't stay here forever, Adam."  
  
"Not my plan," Adam said with a sweet smile. "Rene, would you please go get Peter?"  
  
The buzzer sounded again as Rene stepped in, and once more after he exited, Peter supported in his arms. Adam took him, though Peter tried to push him away. After a tiny struggle, he gave up and let Adam hold him.   
  
"Goodbye, Arthur," Adam said, that smile still on his lips. Glancing at Rene, he added, "We'll be in the car."  
  
They made it to the outside door before the sound of the shot sounded, echoing down the hall and making both Peter and Angela flinch. Adam just tightened his grip on Peter, and took Angela's arm in his other hand, guiding them both outside to wait for the Haitian to join them.  
  
* * *  
  
This had to be what being high felt like, Mohinder thought, at the rush that sped through him, racing along each nerve and through his blood. He hadn't known what to expect for certain. Pain, perhaps, or at least some sign that his genetic code was being rewritten, but instead there was euphoria, startling and sweet, and if the room was spinning a little bit around him, then there truly was nothing to worry about, because strong arms had wrapped around him the moment he'd tilted toward the floor and now they were cradling him on the sofa he sometimes took naps on when he worked all night. Fingers threaded through his hair, and there was a voice calling to him, asking him questions he couldn't be bothered to answer, so he shook his head slightly, which got him slapped, so he must have answered incorrectly.   
  
"What?" he managed.  
  
"Can you sit up?" Sylar repeated.  
  
"I don't think so," Mohinder said, closing his eyes as the room spun sharply and made him feel a little sick. If this was what being high felt like, he didn't want any part of it anymore, as the euphoria faded into nausea and a clawing headache that was more what he'd expected. "Want to..."  
  
"Want to what?" Sylar sounded almost scared, and that struck Mohinder as very odd, so he shook his head again, which turned out to be a very bad idea as he was fairly certain he'd nearly shaken it right off, and blackness rushed in on him, hard and fast like the death that had seemed to nip at his heels for years now. For a moment, he tried to keep hold of conscious thought, but then he sighed and let it slip away.  
  
When he came to, the room was dark except for a lamp to the side which cast the lab equipment into strange shadows and angles. Night had fallen, stretching out across the city, and found them, apparently, which meant he'd been out for quite some time. He stirred, and immediately the form beneath him moved as well, springing to alertness.  
  
"Mohinder?"  
  
"I'm all right," he managed, blinking and realizing that he could see the equipment on the other side of the room perfectly. His mind consciously recognized it was dark, but his eyes didn't seem to care. Every line was as crisp as if they had been in full daylight. His breath caught as he glanced toward one of the computers in the far corner, and from across the room, he found himself reading the print on the document on the screen. "Oh...."  
  
"What?" Sylar asked, voice tight and anxious and far too loud, making Mohinder flinch away from him.  
  
"Shhh...not so loud..." he begged, and Sylar subsided, just a bit, watching him with wary eyes.   
  
"What?" he asked in almost a whisper, but under it Mohinder could hear the rapid beat of his heart, the way it sent panic searing through his veins.  
  
"I can hear your heartbeat," Mohinder whispered back. "And the computer screen...I can read it..."  
  
Sylar's breath caught, and his fingers slid over Mohinder's arm in a soft stroke, as if making sure he was really all right. The touch set off tiny shivers of pleasure along every nerve, and it was his turn to gasp a little. Sylar's hand froze against him, and Mohinder could feel his pulse as much as hear it.   
  
"Sensitive too?" Sylar asked quietly.  
  
"Very," Mohinder said with a bit of a smile. "In a good way."  
  
Sylar managed a smirk, though there was still worry in his eyes. "And this...?" he asked before leaning in and kissing him.  
  
Mohinder nearly moaned, heat flaring through him as he pressed closer, twisting to better lean into him, mouth hungry on Sylar's. It was Sylar who pulled back a bit, eyes a little wide at the ferocity in the kiss. He pushed up against Mohinder a little, and Mohinder eased back, but Sylar shook his head. "Hold me down," he ordered, excitement lacing his voice.  
  
Mohinder arched an eyebrow, but complied, pinning him to the sofa. "Now what?"  
  
"Now I try to get up," Sylar said, and proceeded to do that, but Mohinder found keeping him there was simple until Sylar pushed back with the telekinesis, as well. Letting go, Mohinder felt himself flying back, though as soon as the force stopped--and Sylar stopped it fast--he easily caught himself and his balance instead of landing in an ungainly heap on the floor. Another impressed look flitted across Sylar's face. "I'd say it worked."  
  
Mohinder grinned, elation running through him harder than any adrenaline rush. "I'd say so."  
  
"We should call Adam," Sylar said, reaching for his phone.  
  
Mohinder moved back to him, snagging the phone before he could and tossed it aside before pressing Sylar back onto the sofa. "It can wait 'til morning."


	6. Chapter 6

Peter had been woozy for a little while after they got him back home, but after Angela coaxed him into eating some soup, he seemed to regain his equilibrium. It wasn't the same, though, and Adam hurt to watch him. There was a hollow look in his eyes, like Arthur had ripped out more than his abilities. Or maybe he'd been the one to do that, Adam thought, as Peter flinched every time he came near him.  
  
"It's going to be all right," Adam told him, when he found him on the lanai, staring at the ocean.  
  
"Yesterday I could have flown out there, looked down on the dolphins...done a hundred different things," Peter said, after a long moment.  
  
"And you will again," Adam said.  
  
"What?" Peter looked over at him, and Adam sighed.   
  
"Did you think I'd do this to you and leave you like this, powerless, helpless, for some meager span of years?" Adam asked. "You who are, by far, the brightest spirit I have ever known. You were destined for greatness, Peter, and I'll see you get it."  
  
"I don't want greatness, Adam, I never did," Peter said, looking at him disbelievingly. "That's your thing, not mine. I just wanted to keep people safe, and now I can't even do that."  
  
"You have your medical knowledge," Adam pointed out. "That was enough for you, three years ago. Especially if you don't want glory. We've a need for nurses in the hospitals."  
  
Peter looked back out over the water. "It's not the same."  
  
"No, it's not. But you're mourning your abilities for yourself, not for them. You can still help people, Peter. Dead, you'd be no help to anyone."  
  
Silence reigned on the lanai for quite some time, as the stars peeked out one by one, casting their light down on the beach below. "I can't believe you did this," Peter finally said, voice low.   
  
"I gave you a choice."  
  
"One you knew I couldn't make."  
  
"Wouldn't, not couldn't."  
  
"Same difference on your end."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Peter looked at him again, and Adam realized he was crying. "I wish I could believe that, but I can't believe anything you say. Not anymore."  
  
Adam flinched at that, and reached out a hand toward him, but let it drop before he made contact. "This isn't over, Peter. This was just...phase one. I'm going to fix this, fix you, and then you'll see..."  
  
"Goodbye, Adam."  
  
Adam swallowed, then sighed. "Good night, Peter. I'll be back in the morning..."  
  
Peter looked back out over the water and didn't say anything.  
  
* * *  
  
Adam studied the young man standing in his living room with an impassive look, while shock seemed to reel through the boy.   
  
"What do you mean I have to leave?"  
  
"I mean, I need you to not be here when Peter regains his powers. Otherwise this whole thing is for nothing," Adam said calmly.  
  
Melvin continued to stare at him in disbelief. "But I've done everything you've asked. I've worked for you, been loyal to you..."  
  
"Which is why you're still alive." Adam looked him up and down. "A time traveler is a dangerous thing in days like these, Melvin, but I trust you. I believe in you, in your commitment to our cause. But I can't let Peter reacquire your ability, so I can't let you be anywhere near where he is."  
  
"All he's done is try and stop you," Melvin said bitterly. "You should have killed him months ago."  
  
Adam was on his feet in a minute. "I don't ever want to hear those words out of you again, or I will forget your loyalty. Peter is under my protection. I made a promise..."  
  
"You're not thinking with the right head," Melvin said with disgust.  
  
Adam's fingers curled in a fist, but he didn't strike the blow. "We've established a good port in Australia, and I've heard there is a strong group of survivors in Europe. I need someone I can trust to coordinate things on those ends. Some people aren't going to want to leave their homes to come so far, even to be with others, so I need communities there, with someone in charge I can rely upon. I think you're that person, Melvin. Think of it as a promotion..."  
  
"A promotion?" Melvin said doubtfully.  
  
"A whole city under your care? My deputy there, taking care of things, coordinating with me what needs to be done to establish a global government, even with as few people as we have? I don't want the world to fall back into divisive politics, and I know you don't either. We think the same, Melvin, which is why I need you. I'm not sending you to the wilderness, or exile, but to a city, with supplies, where there are people, to set up a stronghold...."  
  
Melvin relaxed a little, liking the vision as it was presented to him, and Adam allowed himself a bit of a smirk. "I guess that could be good..."  
  
"Very good," Adam said. "I'll need you gone by morning. Take whatever you need."  
  
"What about my girl?"  
  
Adam's eyebrow arched. "She's not some serf who needs permission to travel, Melvin. Take her with you, if you must." Though he'd really prefer if there were no children. Keeping time travelers away from Peter was going to be something that took diligence, he could see.  
  
Melvin nodded a bit, then gave him a mock bow, a smirk of his own on his lips, and disappeared.  
  
Adam sighed and really hoped he wasn't going to have to shoot him one day.  
  
* * *  
  
Morning found them all gathered in Angela's living room. Mohinder seemed to be glowing in some indeterminate manner Adam found a little disturbing, casting his lieutenant a dubious look with an arch of an eyebrow. Sylar just smirked. Peter was sitting on the sofa, watching them all warily, shooting Mohinder occasional looks that seemed to insist the geneticist had betrayed him by having anything to do with the others, but Mohinder's glee withstood even that.  
  
"I take it the experiment worked?" Adam asked dryly.  
  
"It did," Mohinder replied. "With no ill effects."  
  
Adam looked to Sylar for confirmation. "He got loopy and passed out for a few hours," Sylar added, "But when he came to, he was fine--better than fine, really--and has remained so."  
  
"What's going on?" Peter asked, curiosity getting the better of him.  
  
"I told you I was going to fix you," Adam told him, "And Mohinder is here to do that."  
  
"Fix him how?" Nathan asked from behind them, and Adam turned, stepping back to include him in the conversation.  
  
"Mohinder's been working on a formula for me, piecing together one the Company used a while ago, though we didn't have the full formula from them, so he's had to work at it a bit longer," Adam explained. "Claire had the final ingredient we needed, and Mohinder tested the formula yesterday to make sure it works."  
  
"What's the formula do?" Nathan asked.  
  
Adam gave him a wry smile. "Ironic you should ask, Nathan. It gives people abilities."  
  
Nathan stared at him, and Adam heard a slight gasp from Peter. "What sort of abilities?" Nathan asked.  
  
"Whatever they're genetically predisposed to," Mohinder interjected.  
  
Nathan shifted his gaze to him, ignoring Sylar and how close he was standing to the geneticist. "So....you gave yourself an ability?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What?"  
  
"As far as we've managed to figure out, enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, agility and senses." Everyone in the room stared at him and Mohinder flushed a little. "Ah..nothing to the extreme of say, a speedster, or Niki's strength, or Sylar's hearing, but combined together, it's fairly...intense to get used to."  
  
Peter was sitting on the sofa, still, looking a little pale, but Nathan glanced back at Adam. "Why did you say it was ironic I should ask?"  
  
Adam slid a glance to Angela, who sighed. "Because we gave you the original formula when you were a child, Nathan."  
  
"...Oh." Nathan dropped into the chair and the room was silent for a moment. Finally, he asked, "So, now you want to use it on Pete? To fix what Dad did?"  
  
"That's the plan," Adam said with a nod, looking back at Peter.  
  
"Then what? We just start all over?" Peter said, speaking up at last.  
  
"No time travelers around," Adam said. "You won't gain back everything your father took, just your own and the ability to regain them as you did before. But no time travelers...." He shrugged.  
  
"No time traveling ability for me to absorb," Peter said dully.  
  
Adam flashed him a smile, inordinately pleased with himself. "Exactly. See....I told you I'd fix it."  
  
"What if I say no?" The room went silent again. Peter looked around. "What if I don't want that again, don't want to keep being yanked around like some puppet with strings you all twist whenever you feel like it? This is my body, my life, and you think you can just waltz in and fuck around in my DNA until you get it the way you want it?"  
  
"I'm giving you back what you had up until yesterday," Adam snapped. "It was a temporary measure..."  
  
"For your convenience," Peter yelled. "And so is this. You're not doing this for me, to fix things for me. You're doing it because then I'll be immortal, and you can go back to having your perfect little dream, your perfect little world. But I'm out, do you hear me? No. I'm saying no."  
  
Adam just stared at him.  
  
"Peter, don't be ridiculous," Angela chided. "I know you're upset, but this is beyond absurd. No one's forcing you to live your life any particular way..."  
  
"Aren't you?" Peter asked.  
  
"No," Adam said quietly. "I'm giving you the chance to figure out what you want it to be."  
  
"And what if what I want is to be normal?"  
  
"It isn't," Adam said. "Not 12 hours ago, you were standing out there, bemoaning your loss of abilities, your loss of a way to help people..."  
  
"And you pointed out I still could," Peter interjected. "You reminded me I didn't need to be special to help people."  
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake. I was trying to cheer you up, not suggesting an alternate life plan," Adam yelled, losing his cool. Peter paused, staring at him. Adam swallowed, straightening his jacket, and took a deep breath. "Peter, be reasonable..."  
  
"I am being reasonable," Peter said. "You made me help you cause this world. You had my own father rip away a part of me so that I couldn't fix it. And now you think you can just...give me a shot and make it all better?"  
  
"No," Adam said. "Of course not. But it is something that will give us a chance to find a way to make it better, someday."  
  
"I don't want your someday, Adam." Peter ignored everyone else in the room, focusing on him. "I told you how it could be, what _I_ would do to give us that, and you didn't listen. You wanted this, wanted power and things your way more than you wanted me. You were willing to do this to me, thinking you could just....somehow have it all. Well, that's not how the world works. You wanted your world? You got it. But you don't get me, too." Slowly he crossed the room, until he was standing close, and leaned up to brush a kiss over Adam's lips. "Goodbye, Adam."  
  
Without looking at the others, he walked to the door, letting himself out. In the silence after the closing of the door, everyone stood where they had been. Sylar stared at the door Peter had exited through, confusion written on his face. Mohinder and Nathan both looked worried. Angela had some deeper concern etched across her face, but Adam stood there, shell-shocked, staring at the sofa where Peter had sat. Angela moved first, crossing to the bar and fixing a glass with ice and whiskey in it, before bringing it to Adam, pressing it into his hand.  
  
"Peter's always been an impulsive boy, prone to emotional outbursts and rash decisions," she said. "Give him a week or two, or a month or two, of living without his abilities, of seeing what it's really like, being out there, normal. Give him time to get over the shock of this, to miss you. If he was willing to keep coming back after the virus...when that boy loves, he loves with his whole heart, and you hold it. Just wait..."  
  
Adam curled his fingers around the glass, clinging to it like a lifeline.  
  
"We have the formula," Mohinder said quietly. "There's plenty of it. It will be there when he's ready."  
  
Adam nodded slightly, not really hearing him, but responding anyway, and shifted away from Angela, out onto the lanai. Leaning against the rail of the balcony, he held the glass tight as the water began to condense on the glass, making it slick in his hands. The sun was up, but there were clouds on the horizon, rolling their way across the crystal clear blue of the ocean below, and they drew his gaze. The sun seemed to fade behind their advancing guard, and the water below darkened, but it was no less beautiful for the darkness. The rain would come, and the rain would go, and the sun would pass out from behind the clouds to turn the waters from cobalt to azure again. He'd still be here.  
  
"I'll give him some time," he murmured, half to himself. "Let him adjust. And I'll think of some way to get him back. There's time."  
  
The wind blew the clouds in more quickly and the rain started to fall, but Adam stayed out there, thinking, even as his clothes got soaked through. The world was safe, at least. His world, his life, the work he was doing. It was safe. He'd accomplished one goal, and Peter was still alive on the other side of it, so that was goal number two accomplished as well. As for the rest...This was fixable, and he would do so. He just had to figure out how, and then nothing in the world would stand in his way again.


End file.
